


In Sickness and in Health

by Somniare



Series: To Which Fate Binds You [3]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, Post-series 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/pseuds/Somniare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Robbie held back a sigh – first-aid training did not necessarily equip you to deal with faint and feverish, six-foot-three-inch tall, long-limbed men, nor help you achieve a reasonable sense of detachment when said person was also your partner and lover.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunday – Pre-dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Brit-picked and poked at several times (with love) by Barcardivodka - thanks hun!
> 
> All errors, inconsistencies and tense muck-ups are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own them, just playing; I promise to put them back safely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Robbie sat up with a jolt and automatically reached out to soothe James, but his hand only fell against the rapidly-cooling damp sheet.  He frowned, held his breath and listened.  A noise had woken him, a strange thud, but all was still now.   _Where’s James?  He’s not well, why’s he out of bed?  Why didn’t he wake me, daft sod?_ Getting up as quietly as possible, Robbie carefully made his way to the bedroom door.  
  
"James!" he gasped.  
  
The sight of James's bare feet poking out into the hallway brought Robbie to full alertness; James was lying face down on the bathroom floor.  Robbie hesitated for a moment but dismissed any thought of a possible intruder when Monty stepped into view, his nose and paw nudging at James’s ankle; any unknown person in the house and Monty would have bolted for the relative safety of Robbie’s feet.  Robbie rushed to James’s side.  
  
“James, James can you hear me?”  He shook James’s shoulder lightly.  His own shoulders sagged with relief when James groaned and tried to lift his head.  James was dressed only in boxers and Robbie knew he had to get him off the cold floor as quickly and safely as possible.   
  
Cradling his head, Robbie gently lifted James’s shoulder to roll him onto his side, wincing at the heat coming off his body.  The reason he'd dragged himself out of bed and towards the loo became all too obvious – he was lying in a pool of vomit.  Robbie held back a groan of dismay – first-aid training did not necessarily equip you to deal with faint and feverish, six-foot-three-inch tall, long-limbed men, nor help you achieve a reasonable sense of detachment when said person was also your partner and lover.  
  
He lifted James onto the toilet and winced at the growing lump on his forehead; it was already beginning to bruise.  "Are you able stand, James?  I need to get you cleaned up and back to bed."  
  
James half-opened his eyes and a confused frown wrinkled his forehead.  However, he didn't protest or argue when Robbie turned on the shower taps, stripped himself off, and stood James up to remove his boxers.  
  
Robbie grunted as he held James’s body weight against him and did his best to wash him down.  That James didn't struggle was both a blessing and a curse; it made it a bit easier for Robbie to get his hands where they needed to be, but James’s nearly dead-weight against his shoulder threatened to drop both of them to the floor with one wrong move.  
  
"James, pet, you have to try to help me here; can you support yourself a bit?"  
  
Robbie nearly dropped James when he slumped back against the wall and pressed one hand to the glass screen to brace himself.  Once certain he was steady, Robbie continued to wash him as quickly as possible, keeping one hand against James’s chest for his own piece of mind.  James kept mumbling apologies, and Robbie quietly hushed him as he tried to keep his own panic under control; James was burning up despite the ibuprofen and paracetamol he’d taken before bed.  
  
Satisfied James was clean enough, and wanting to get him off his feet as soon as possible, Robbie helped him out of the shower and wrapped him in his towelling bath-robe.  He supported James as he shuffled back to the bedroom and, sitting him on the edge of bed, rubbed him as dry as possible.  He dressed James in a clean t-shirt and boxers, which wasn’t an easy task as James was unable to help him beyond half-standing when Robbie needed to pull up his boxers.  He laid James down, lifting his legs onto the bed, and covered him with the sheet; with his fever he didn’t need the duvet, but he did need to be covered.  
  
Robbie sat on the edge of the bed and lightly caressed James’s face.  The heat radiating off his skin caused Robbie’s gut to clench with worry.  He glanced at the clock – 3am; it was far too early to call either Laura or Lyn for advice, and only A&E would be open at this hour.  Shivering, Robbie remembered he was still wet and naked. _Shit.  I’ll not do James any good by getting sick meself._   He hurriedly dried himself off as best he could with the damp robe; he didn’t want to leave James alone even for the short time it would take him to get a dry towel.  He dressed, watching James the whole time, listening to him occasionally murmur ‘sorry’.   
  
He talked to James, though he doubted James fully understood or even heard him.  “I’m taking you up to A&E now, love.  I’m worried sick.”   The nights were chilly, so Robbie fetched the over-sized wool dressing gown Lyn had given James for Christmas.  He smiled fondly as he remembered James’s bemused look when he’d opened the parcel.  James was strictly a ‘track pants and hoodie’ man when he lounged around the house, and the gown had hung unused in the wardrobe since then.  
  
Wrapping James in the robe and slipping his feet into Ugg boots – horrible things, Robbie thought, and probably not the best option, but easier than shoes – he slowly led James down the stairs.  Sitting James at the kitchen table, Robbie gathered up his mobile, keys and both their wallets, and half-dragged James, who was barely conscious, to the car.  He allowed himself a half-smile at the look of horror he knew James would have made if he could see how he was dressed.   
  
When they arrived at the JR, Robbie secured a wheelchair and pushed James through the doors of A&E.  It was the expected early Sunday morning scene, busy with the fall-out from too much booze and stupidity amongst the genuinely ill.  A young constable, guarding a bruised and foul-mouthed young woman, rose halfway to his feet upon seeing the DI and former DI enter.  Robbie waved him down as they approached reception.   
  
Robbie was ready to produce James’s warrant card if needed, however, one look at him and a quick check of his temperature and James was whisked through to triage.  Robbie tried to stay close to James’s side but a gentle hand gripped his elbow.  
  
“I’m sorry, Mr Lewis, but I have to ask you to return to the waiting room.”  Robbie turned toward the voice and took some relief from seeing a familiar face.  Beth was an old school friend of Lyn’s, and they’d studied nursing together.  She led him back to the door.  “I promise someone will let you know how Mr Hathaway is as soon as there’s any news.”  She smiled kindly at him, but Robbie didn’t find the reassurance he was sure she was trying to convey.  
  
He turned back to where he’d left James in time to see the curtains being drawn around the bed.  “Please, Mr Lewis.”  He nodded at Beth; he knew there was little point in making a protest and reluctantly returned to the waiting room.  
  
He sat down heavily in the first empty chair and stared at the door.  He thought back over the day, wondering if he’d missed any signs, anything that would have made him get James to a doctor earlier.  He looked for the time and swore softly; in his rush to get James to hospital he’d forgotten to put his watch on.  Robbie hung his head and his eyes focused on the gold band on his left hand; he began to twist the ring around his finger, returning his eyes to the door, his ears open for his or James’s name.  
  
He was called once to confirm James’s details, and again to sign a series of authorisations.  He was told nothing beyond reassurances James was in good hands, and he found himself repeatedly sweeping the room looking for Beth or any other familiar face.  His hands continued to twist the ring around his finger.  
  
Smaller hands grasped his, stopping the nervous movement.  Robbie’s head jerked around and he found himself staring into Jean Innocent’s concerned face.  
  
“Ma– Jean.  What are you doing here?”  
  
“I received a call from the duty sergeant, who’d received a call from PC Natale informing him that DI Hathaway had been brought into A&E in a wheelchair by ‘DI’ Lewis, looking ‘like death warmed over’.  I tried calling both your mobiles and only succeeded in getting voicemail.  The hospital did answer, and confirmed James was here, but then wouldn’t tell me another bloody thing.”   
  
Robbie hurriedly patted down his pockets and pulled out his phone.  “Sorry.  It’s on ‘silent’.”  He fumbled with the phone as he attempted to change the settings, using the time to gather his thoughts.     
  
There was a tremor in Jean’s voice as she continued.  “What’s happened, Robbie?  He was fine when he left work on Friday.”   
  
“Don’t know yet.  He was... grumpy and bit listless this morning – which was a bit unusual given he had a clear weekend, and at least three clear days off the rotation.  He said he just felt tired and wanted to stay in and read, so I left him to it and went to get the shopping.  I bumped into Laura on me way home, and when I got back around two James was asleep on the couch; he looked fine.  We had beans on toast for dinner – that’s all James said he felt like.”  He shook his head and sighed.  “I should’ve known something wasn’t right then.  Around nine he started to look peaky an’ his skin was hot; I made him take something, along with a cup of tea.  Then a couple of hours ago...”  He took a shuddering breath.  “I’ve had to sign so they can take x-rays, and blood tests, and they want to do a bloody lumbar puncture – ‘as a precaution’ – but they’ll not say anything else.”   Robbie’s voice rose in anger.  
  
“Robbie, you’re James’s family – they’ll tell you as soon as ...”  
  
“Oh, an’ hasn’t that raised a few eyebrows!” Robbie growled.  “I had to show that one...”  Robbie waved vaguely toward reception.  “...a bloody copy of the certificate before she’d accept me details as next of kin.”  
  
“Oh, Robbie, I’m... you carry a copy of the certificate?”  Jean looked at Robbie curiously.  
  
“It was our Lyn’s Tim’s suggestion,” Robbie sighed.  “Never had to it use before - not like that.”  
  
Jean had held his hands between her own the whole time he spoke and he’d taken some comfort from it.  He knew she was fond of James and was probably almost as worried as he was.  To his surprise, Jean had accepted their relationship without question, unlike Laura, but then he hadn’t had to break off a relationship with Jean to take up with James.  Laura had come round eventually and, with Jean, had witnessed their civil partnership.   
  
“Let me assure you that you’re listed as James’s next of kin on his official work record; anyone who chooses to question that has to go through me.”  She rubbed the back of his hand soothingly.  “James is in the best place, Robbie.  Whatever’s wrong with him, they’ll diagnose and treat him.  Right now, you need to look after yourself or you’ll be of no good use to him.”  
  
Robbie nodded slowly, and sank back into the chair.  
  
Jean shifted in her chair, moving a little closer.  “Would you like me to stay with you for a bit?  Is there anything I can do; anyone I can call?”  
  
Robbie gave a small shake of his head.  “That’s very kind of you, but we could be here for hours yet; doesn’t really make much sense two of us waiting around.  As for calling anyone... there’s really only Lyn and Laura who’ll need to know what’s happening, but until there’s something to tell them... no point worrying them until we know something.”   
  
“Mr Lewis.”  It was Beth.  
  
Robbie jumped to his feet.  “Sorry, Jean, I have to...”  
  
“Go.”  She smiled gently at him.   
  
“I really appreciate you comin’ in, and I know James will, too.”  Robbie stepped towards the door.  
  
Jean gave his hand one last squeeze.  “Call me when you know some more.”  She let him go.  
  
He nodded once and hurried through the door behind Beth.  She took him into a small side room with a desk and two chairs.  Sitting down, she opened the file she’d been carrying.  
  
“I just need to ask you a few more questions, Mr Lewis.”  
  
After going through James’s last two days, and Robbie’s current state of health, she asked, “Have you had the influenza vaccination this year?”  
  
“Aye, our Lyn made bloody sure of that.”  He managed a smile when Beth giggled.  She’d know how ‘persuasive’ Lyn could be.  “Do they think that’s what it is?”  
  
“There’s a high probability; we’ve had a lot of cases this year.”  
  
“And the other tests, the ones I had to sign off on, they’re to eliminate things like meningitis?  I know why a lumbar puncture’s usually done,” he added at her enquiring glance.  
  
Beth nodded.  “Meningitis and pneumonia are two other illnesses that fit James’s condition.  He’s been given an antiviral agent, just in case; it won’t harm him if it does turn out to be the flu, but it can make a difference if it’s meningitis.”   
  
Robbie snorted softly, causing Beth to look at him curiously.  Robbie sighed.  “James has an appointment next Monday to get his flu jab.  Bit pointless now, really.”  He sagged in the chair.  “Can you tell me what’s happening with James right now, Beth?”  
  
“In addition to receiving the antiviral, he’s had blood drawn and swabs taken.  Right now he’s up in radiology; when he’s back here they’ll do the lumbar puncture.  That’s all I can I tell you for certain right now.”  
  
“Thanks, Beth.”  
  
As she closed the folder and stood up, Robbie asked, “Any chance I can wait and see him?  Just a glimpse?”  
  
“I’m sorry, Mr Lewis, that’s just not possible.”  Robbie could see by her eyes that she was genuinely sorry and not just offering empty words.  He reluctantly returned to the waiting room and dropped into the nearest chair; he buried his face in his hands and waited.

 

 

*****

 


	2. Sunday: After dawn

“Robbie?”  
  
The voice was distant and familiar.  He opened his eyes, squinting at the brightness of the room.  
  
“Robbie?”  
  
He turned to see Laura sitting beside him; she looked at him with unmasked affection and concern.  Moments like that still occasionally caused Robbie to feel a tiny stab of guilt at how he had treated her, even though he knew she’d forgiven both of them unconditionally.   He nodded a greeting.  
  
“Jean sent me a text.  Asked me to try and check on you as she hadn’t heard from you.”  
  
Robbie snorted softly – he wasn’t really surprised Jean was impatient for news – and shrugged his shoulders.  “Nothing more I could tell her,” he said quietly.  “It’s probably the flu, but I’ve not been told anything definite yet – they’re still running tests.”  He sat back and rubbed his eyes.  “What time is it?”  
  
“It’s just after seven.  What _do_ you know?”  
  
He told her everything he’d told Jean, and what Beth had told him, then sank his face into his hands again and groaned.  
  
“Robbie, what’s wrong?  Are you feeling unwell, too?”  Laura crouched in front of him, her hands on his knees.   
  
Robbie lifted his head and rested his chin in his hands.  “I should have seen there was something not right a lot sooner than I did, got him to a doctor earlier.  We’re supposed to look out for each other, be aware.  He might not be here if I’d been paying more attention.”  
  
“You don’t know that, Robbie, and it’s pointless to start beating yourself up over it.  Stop and think for a minute.  You have kids, Robbie; how often did they go from being fine and healthy and running around, to feverish and throwing up in the blink of an eye?  It happens, Robbie – to children and adults – he’s here now, and that’s what matters.”  
  
Robbie grasped her hand and gave a quick squeeze.  “Aye, you’re right.”  
  
She smiled at him.  “How about I get us both a cup of tea?”  She was gone before he answered.  
  
***  
  
Robbie was convinced the clock was running backwards.  He was on his third cup of tea – if that’s what it really was – and jumped every time the doors opened.  When would someone tell him what was going on?  His mind drifted back over the morning’s events, and he was becoming increasingly annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t remember if he’d closed the bathroom door.  Were some cats like dogs?  If Monty could get into the bathroom, would he...?  Vomit on the bathroom floor was one thing; a sick cat with the run of the house would be a nightmare.  If Laura had still been there, he would have given her his keys and asked her to check the house, but she’d been called out to a suspicious death in Cowley sometime earlier.  With a heavy sigh, Robbie attempted to push the thought from his mind.  _I’m tired, I’m over-thinking things.  Surely, Monty’s not that daft._   He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed hearing his name being called.  
  
A young doctor, possibly younger than James, stood in the doorway.  “Mr Lewis?”   
Robbie stumbled to his feet and followed him through the door.  “I’m Dr Fanning; I’m looking after Mr Hathaway, James.”  
  
He led Robbie past the bed where he’d last seen James and down a corridor, stopping in front of another screened bed.  Dr Fanning pulled back the curtain and Robbie gasped.  James was in a hospital gown, his face drawn and flushed with fever.  He had an IV drip in the back of each hand, and was receiving oxygen.  His eyes were closed, the dark rings underneath and the bruise on his forehead stark even against his reddened features.  
  
“What...?”  
  
“We don’t have all the test results back as yet, however, it’s most likely flu;  it’s not one of the worst cases I’ve seen this year, but still extremely serious.  James has a chest infection, for which we’ve started antibiotics...”  The doctor gestured towards one of the drips.  “... but of greatest concern right at the moment is the fever and dehydration; we’ll be admitting him to a High Dependency Unit within the hour.  You’re welcome to go up and wait, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to see him immediately.”  
  
“His head,” Robbie stammered.  “Is it... has he...?”  
  
“He’s given himself a serious blow but fortunately there’s no bone or brain injury indicated on the x-rays; however, concussion is still a possibility.”  
  
Robbie hadn’t taken his eyes off James.  “But he’ll be all right?”   
  
“We’ll be doing everything we can to ensure that, Mr Lewis.”  
  
“Can I stay with him here?”  
  
The doctor reached out and squeezed Robbie’s shoulder.  “I’m afraid not.”  Dr Fanning scribbled on a Post-It note and handed it to Robbie.  “This is the ward we’ll be moving him to.  It has a small, quieter waiting area and you’re welcome to go there now – just check in with the duty nurse; they’ll be expecting you.”  
  
Robbie let the doctor guide him to the correct lift.  Stepping inside, he selected the floor indicated on the note, and slumped heavily against the wall as it began its ascent.  
  
***  
  
After twenty minutes, Robbie was beginning to wonder if the noise and movement in A&E were more preferable to the quiet of the ward; in the relative silence he found his imagination running away with him.  Despite his weariness, he leapt out of the chair when the nurse, who identified herself as Bridget, told him he could finally see James.  
  
“It’s imperative you wash and dry your hands thoroughly before entering and leaving the room.”  She directed him to a sink just inside the Unit door.  He looked around for James but, because of the location of the sink, he could only see half the room properly, and James wasn’t in any of the beds he could see.  The nurse continued to explain the guidelines.  “You cannot enter the Unit if you’re unwell, and visitors are restricted to two at any one time.  Visiting hours are between half-two and eight in the evening, and we do like to stick to them as strictly as possible – for sake of all the patients.  However, as his next of kin, you may visit outside standard visiting hours, although we would appreciate a call in advance.”  
  
Robbie nodded impatiently.  “I understand the rules, Bridget; can I see him now?  Please?”  
  
Smiling kindly, she led the way to a corner bed.  Even though he’d seen him earlier, Robbie groaned quietly at the sight of James under an array of tubes.  The only difference here was that he now had nasal prongs instead of an oxygen mask.  Bridget began to draw the curtain around the bed.  “You’ve got about ten, fifteen minutes before I’ll have to open this again,” she whispered, leaning in closer.  “And, if you promise not to dislodge anything, you can touch him; even though he’s asleep, hearing a loved one’s voice and having contact with them can make a big difference.”  
  
Robbie nodded his thanks, grateful for her compassion and easy acceptance of their relationship.  He pulled a chair close to James’s bed and carefully took the fingers of James’s left hand in his own.  Robbie began to turn the ring on James’s finger, stopping when James gripped his fingers.  
  
Looking up, he exhaled slowly as James’s eyes flickered open.  “Oh, pet,” Robbie whispered.  “It’s good to see you.”  
  
James smiled weakly.  
  
“Do you remember what happened, love?”  
  
James frowned and half-closed his eyes.  “I, er, I was going to be sick.  I got up...  I don’t remember anything else.”  He looked at Robbie, uncertainty crossing his face.  
  
Robbie worked to keep his voice light.  “That’s all right, pet; no-one expects you to.  Doc says it’s the flu; they want to keep you in for a bit.  Close your eyes; sleep’s the best thing for you right now.  Let the doctors and nurses worry about the rest.”  
  
James nodded his head, a barely-there movement, and his eyes fluttered closed.  Robbie watched him as he slept, furiously blinking back tears of concern.  
  
“Mr Lewis.”  The soft voice broke through his contemplation.  “I have to...”  
  
“One more minute.  Please.”  Still holding James’s hand, Robbie moved to sit on the edge of the bed.  “I have to go, pet, before Jean or Laura decide to come in and drag me home.  I’ll have a kip, an’ I’ll be back.”  He pressed his lips to James’s; the feel of dry, rough skin, instead of the soft, yielding lips he was used to, brought a lump to his throat.  “Oh, James,” he sighed sadly.  
  
Bridget waited until he stood up before pulling the curtain away.  “We have your contact details, and will call you if there’re any developments – and you can call here at any time, day or night.”  
  
Robbie gently laid James’s hand on his belly, his fingers brushing over the ring once more.  With a weary nod to Bridget, Robbie headed for the door.  
  
***  
  
Monty greeted Robbie noisily when he arrived home just after eleven, breakfast time having passed several hours earlier.  He hauled himself upstairs, and heaved a sigh of relief at the closed bathroom door.  Resting his forehead against the door frame, Robbie was grateful he didn’t have to deal with either the mess or a sick cat right at that moment.  He went back down to the kitchen to feed Monty.  Standing at the bench, he briefly contemplated sleeping on the couch before dismissing the idea and making his way slowly back up to the bedroom.  He fell heavily onto the bed, oblivious to the evidence trail of James’s illness, and dropped into a deep, exhausted sleep.

 

 

*****

 


	3. Sunday: Afternoon/Evening

The weak afternoon sun did little to dispel the gloom that was in the bedroom when Robbie woke, his sleep disturbed by unwanted dreams.  Squinting, he was surprised to see it was only four o’clock.  “Five bloody hours, if that,” he mumbled to Monty, who was curled up on James’s pillow.  “If you wake me at the crack of dawn tomorrow wanting fed, I’ll take you next door and leave you with Mrs Tate and her Yorkie.”  Monty closed his eyes and began to purr.  Grunting more than usual, and urgently needing to pee, Robbie rose to his feet and headed for the bathroom.  In his half-wakened state he stepped in the partially-dried vomit in the floor; the smell hit him half a second later.  
  
“Ah, shit,” he muttered.  He used his other foot to nudge Monty, who naturally had followed him, back towards the door, closing it behind him.  Between the dreams and the mess, the urge to jump straight into the shower was overwhelming, but he knew if he didn’t clean the floor now odds were he’d probably step in it again.  He couldn’t be arsed getting upset or angry; he wiped his foot with a towel, went to the toilet, and then set about cleaning up.  Monty yowled and scratched at the door as Robbie tried not to gag on the odour.  
  
“Oh, shut it, you daft cat,” he growled.  His head was aching, but it wasn’t until his stomach gave a hollow flip that he remembered that the only thing he’d consumed since the previous evening was lukewarm hospital tea.  Wiping away the last marks from the tiles, Robbie shoved everything in a bin bag – including the towel he’d used to wipe his foot – knotted the bag and threw it in the corner.  He stripped and stood in the shower, water as hot and fast as his skin could bear, letting it peel away the tiredness, aches and smells.  
  
God, he hated hospitals and the odour they left in your nose, on your skin, and in your clothes; even the vomit hadn’t completely masked it.  Whenever he’d had to enter the hospital for work he’d been able to distract his mind with the business at hand, but this morning, waiting around and sitting with James, his tired and worried mind couldn’t fight back the memory of the morgue, of Val, and of Morse.  A small part of his mind rebelled at going back, but his return was never in doubt.  This was James; he could bear anything for James.  
  
The persistent ring of his phone cut through the rush of the water.  
  
***  
  
The missed call was from Laura and he tried not to let his imagination run wild.  _Just because she’s called doesn’t mean something’s happened; anyway_ ,he rationalised, _the hospital would call me, not Laura, wouldn’t they?  Robbie Lewis, you can be a right ninny sometimes._  He closed his eyes, took a couple of calming breaths, and called back.  
  
“Hi Robbie, are you still at the hospital?  I called, but they wouldn’t tell me anything.  How’s James?”  She spoke in a rush and Robbie could hear the worry in her voice.  
  
“No, I’m home.  He’s got flu; they’ve put him in a High Dependency Unit.”   
  
Laura gasped.  “Oh, Robbie, I’m so sorry.”  
  
“Nowt anyone could have done, lass.  I’m going back in soon; he’s allowed two visitors at a time – d’you want ...”  
  
“Have you managed to get any sleep?”   
  
“I, ah... four, five hours.”  He was caught off-guard by the change in direction.  
  
“Have you eaten yet?”  _What are you, now? Me bloody mother?_  
  
“Not yet – I’m not long up.”  
  
“Oh, good.”  _Good?_   “Meet me at the restaurant on Level Three in an hour and I’ll buy you dinner – I’ll be happier knowing you’ve had at least one decent meal today.”  
  
Robbie huffed softly; that was exactly the sort of thing James would have done for him had it been Lyn or Mark in the hospital.   
  
“I can be there in thirty.”  _No point in wasting more time than necessary_ , he thought.  
  
***  
  
Laura was waiting inside the restaurant for him when he arrived, a pot of tea and two cups on the table.  
  
She smiled warmly as he sat down.  “What’s in the bag?”  She gestured at the backpack Robbie had placed on an empty chair.  “You’re not allowed to stay overnight, you know.”  She grinned cheekily.  
  
“Some of James’s things – iPod, earphones, change of clothes to get him out of that bloody gown, a few other bit and pieces – for when he’s awake long enough to get bored; he’ll drive the nurses around the bend otherwise.”  
  
“No phone?”  Laura looked at Robbie curiously.  
  
“He’ll be better off without it.  You know James,” he sighed.  “The daft bugger would try and work from his bed – no phone, no temptation.”  
  
“Good point.  Ready to eat?”  
  
***  
  
After calling up to the Unit and being told James was resting quietly, Robbie let himself relax and enjoy his meal; he and Laura headed upstairs just after six.   
  
James slept the whole time they were there, but Robbie was happier just for being with him.  Laura studied his notes and, with Robbie’s consent, quizzed the Unit staff.  When Laura pointed out that all James’s other test results were in and clear, Robbie released a whoosh of relief; he hadn’t realised how anxious he’d been about them until then.  
  
***  
  
Robbie collapsed onto the bed and felt the slight movement of the duvet as Monty lightly leapt up beside him.  Rolling onto his side, Robbie tried to clear his mind and sleep.  He concentrated on the sound and feel of Monty’s purring as the cat curled against the back of his knees.  When he closed his eyes, the image of James, lying still and silent loomed large.  As he tried to push it from his mind the features changed; it was no longer James in the bed, it was Morse, then it was Val.  He sat up with a jerk and a horrified cry when the image changed back to James, no longer in bed, but lying on a mortuary table.   
  
With tears stinging his eyes and a sob caught in his throat, Robbie stumbled to the bathroom, shedding his pyjamas as he went.  He stood under the shower until the heat and steam drove away the smell and the nightmares it brought.

 

*****

 


	4. Monday

The following morning, Robbie was woken early by the insistent demands of Monty and his stomach.  Muttering half-hearted threats about rehoming him, Robbie followed him down the stairs and sorted breakfast for both of them.  He tried to read the paper but couldn’t get his mind to focus; nothing seemed important enough to pull his attention.  After a second cup of tea Robbie headed back upstairs to get himself organised for the day.  Though he decided to skip his shower, knowing he’d more than make up for it in the evening, he did shave as he’d missed shaving the previous day and felt scruffy.  He finally called the hospital at eight.  He had considered ringing earlier but didn’t want to appear over-anxious, even if he was.  Settled by the news that James had had a good night, he called Lyn to let her know what had happened; she and Beth were still in contact, and he knew Lyn would never forgive him if she found out from Beth first.  Lyn was ready to drop everything and come down to be with him.  
  
“Lyn, pet, I’m perfectly capable of looking after meself – managed fine before James came along.”  
  
Lyn conceded grudgingly.  “Perhaps, but you will need some help once James is home.  The hospital won’t discharge him until they feel he’s ready, but ‘ready’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘fully independent’.”  
  
“I am aware of that, pet,” Robbie said patiently.  “I do appreciate your concern, Lyn, but you’ve got the bairn to think about, and Tim.  You can’t just flit off down to your old dad at the drop of a hat.”  He took a deep breath.  “Let’s wait and see what the hospital has to say, get some idea of when James might come home, and make any plans around that.”  
  
“You’re awfully... calm about this, Dad; are _you_ okay?”  
  
“Aye, I’m fine.  Yes, it was a bit of a shock – he was fine Friday night – but I’m all right, no need to fuss.”  
   
“Do you have someone you can talk to – if you need to?”  
  
“Oh, don’t worry about me, pet.  If I need to, I can go sit by James’s bedside and natter uninterrupted until I sort meself out.”  Robbie grimaced when his voice cracked.  
  
“Dad?”  
  
“I can chat to Laura, love; really, I’ll be fine.”  He hoped his tone told her the topic was closed.  “So,” he continued with a forced cheeriness, “how’s that grandson of mine?”  
  
***  
  
Robbie arrived at the hospital at half-two.  As much as he wanted to see James, he knew there was no point in hovering at his bedside all day – it wasn’t as though he was on his deathbed, and at least at home he could keep his hands and mind busy.  After a restless hour watching James sleep, Robbie started to imagine all the smart-aleck remarks James would make if he could see him.  He shuffled his chair closer to the bed, took James’s hand, and bent low towards James.  
  
“Listen, pet,” he began hesitantly.  “I really don’t like the thought of leaving you here, lying by yourself, hour after hour, but it seems daft me just sitting here watching you; it’s not like it’ll do much to help you get better.  You’ve got the nurses checkin’ on you and chattin’ to you, and I’ve let them know that Laura, Innocent, an’ Julie can visit you, so hopefully you’ll get a bit more company than just me.  I’ll come in of an evening, every night, after dinner.  So I can kiss you goodnight.  I missed you last night, love.”  
  
He stopped, watching and waiting for any response from James, any sign that he’d heard anything.  He wondered if James had been sedated to encourage deep sleep; Laura had told him that it was a possibility.  Robbie stood and kissed James lightly on the forehead.  
  
“I’ll head off now, but I’ll be back. I promise, bonny lad.”  
  
He recognised Bridget at the nurses’ station as he was leaving.  
  
“Is it normal for someone with flu to sleep that much?”  
  
“Yes and no.  Each patient responds slightly different to treatment.  However, the antibiotics James is receiving are known to cause drowsiness; add in the energy it takes for the body to fight off the virus and infection...  Once his system adjusts he’ll become more alert for longer periods.  When he starts becoming a pest, then we’ll know it’s time to move him out,” she said with a grin.  
  
Robbie huffed a small laugh.  
  
“Mr Lewis?”  Bridget spoke kindly.  “We _will_ contact you if he asks for you; we understand it’s not easy for anyone to sit here hour after hour.  When he wakes, we’ll let him know you were here, and of anyone else who comes in.”  
  
“Thank you, that’d be much appreciated, lass.”  
  
“There is just one more thing, sir.  James’s parents, siblings – can we add their names to the visitors’ list?”  
  
“He hasn’t got any other family, lass, just me.”  Robbie left quickly to avoid the look of surprise then sadness he knew would appear in her eyes.  
  
***  
  
Robbie returned to the hospital after an early dinner, having filled the rest of his afternoon with an unnecessary food shop and some very industrious vacuuming which caused Monty to retreat to the top of the fridge, hissing loudly.   
  
The top half of James’s mattress had been raised slightly, so he was partially upright, and Robbie studied him quietly from the foot of the bed.  His head and arms lay heavy against the linen, and the bruise on his head was already turning dark purple.  In contrast, the dark circles under his eyes had begun to fade, and he looked very young and vulnerable.  
  
Robbie winced as the chair leg scraped noisily against the floor when he sat down.  
  
“Hey, you.”  The voice was soft and strained.  
  
“James, pet,” Robbie sighed.  He moved to the edge of the bed and took James’s hands in his own.  James smiled, and Robbie leant in and gently kissed him.  
  
They sat quietly for a few moments; Robbie’s fingers brushed lightly across James’s face, lingering over the egg on his head.  “Bloody good thing you’ve got a hard head, lad.”  James huffed a small laugh.  
  
They were interrupted by the nurse, and Robbie settled back in the chair while she took James’s observations.  
  
"What happened?" James asked quietly after the nurse left them.  He looked scared.  
  
“Have they not told you?” Robbie was a little shocked as James wasn’t easily frightened.  
  
“I know I’ve got flu and a head injury, and they’ve explained the treatment, though a lot of it’s gone in one ear and out the other.  But, that’s not... After I got up – what happened?  I can't remember; I’ve tried, but the last thing I recall is getting out of bed."  
  
“Ah, that.”  Robbie’s concern subsided.  “You passed out on the bathroom floor, gave your head a hell of a whack – it was the thud that woke me.  I got you here as fast as I could.”  He gave James a moment before continuing.  “Innocent knows you’re here, an’ you’re not to worry about work – that’s an order.  You just concentrate on getting well and getting out of here.  The house is empty without you.”  
  
“What about Monty?  He can take up enough space for two cats when he wants to.”  
  
“Monty doesn’t cuddle back.”  
  
James’s fond smile said more than words ever could.  
  
  
  
Robbie held James’s hands until he fell asleep again.  He overheard the whisperings of other visitors, evidently curious about how he was connected to James.  Two words kept featuring – ‘father’, or a variant, and ‘uncle’; just this once, he was happy to leave them to their misconceptions.  
  
***  
  
He showered as soon as he got home, ignoring Monty’s cries for attention even when he started scratching at the door.  Mentally drained, and his skin pink and tingling, Robbie lay down and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

*****

 


	5. Tuesday

Robbie dropped onto the couch and wrapped his fingers around the mug.  His shoulders relaxed with the first sip, and he looked around.  He couldn’t recall the last time this room had been this clean and tidy – possibly just after he and James had moved in and unpacked the last box.  Inspired by the previous day’s vacuuming, Robbie had tackled the kitchen and living areas with vigour; he’d finish off the bathroom tomorrow and make a start on the bedrooms and study.  He now understood why his mother-in-law had practically sterilised their house after Val had died – it was an effective way of keeping the unwanted thoughts at bay.  He was keenly aware that he was being more than a bit silly – he knew rationally that James would be coming home – but he wouldn’t feel completely at ease until James was back in his own bed, their bed.  
  
The citrus scent from the Mr Muscle spray had sent Monty into a sneezing fit, and he’d retreated under the couch.  As long as it didn’t smell like a hospital, Robbie didn’t care.  
  
He called the Unit and was told James had been awake off and on during the day.  He was relieved to hear that James had managed to not only eat some jelly, but to keep it down as well, and he hoped that boded well for some quality time with James.  
  
***  
  
His plans looked like floundering on the rocks when he ran into Jean as he arrived at hospital.   
  
"Ah, Robbie, I hope you haven’t become a bedside martyr?”  She smiled warmly at him.  “There’ll be plenty of time for that after James gets home."  
  
He nodded and smiled tightly, hoping it looked genuine.  He was gratified that Jean cared enough about James to take the time to visit, but why did it have to be now?  Feeling very selfish, he hoped she was on her way to somewhere else.  
  
Only one spare visitor’s chair was available, so Robbie sat on the edge of the bed.  He watched as James slowly opened his eyes, glanced from Jean to himself and back again, before closing them again with a small smile.  
  
Jean looked to Robbie, who shrugged his shoulders.  
  
“Has he been doing that a lot?” she asked.  
  
“Nurse says it’s a combination of the illness and his treatment.  He’s had lucid moments.”  Robbie suspected James simply didn’t feel up to talking to Jean and was hoping she’d leave.  If that was the case, he didn’t have too long to wait.  
  
Jean sighed and glanced at her watch.  “Do you think he’ll wake soon?”  
  
“I’ve no idea – you could ask.”  He gestured towards the desk.  
  
Jean thought for a moment.  “I’ve a meeting first thing tomorrow I need to prepare for; James would scowl at me if I hung around here instead, wouldn’t he?”  
  
“Probably.”   
  
Jean stood and lightly squeezed Robbie’s arm.  “You will keep me informed, won’t you Robbie?”  
  
“Aye, I will.”  
  
She started to leave.  “Walk me to my car, Robbie?”  
  
Wanting to stay with James, Robbie hesitated, trying to produce a plausible excuse.  Unable to come up with anything, he nodded and rose to his feet.  
  
When they were alone in the lift, Jean turned to him with a puzzled frown.  
  
"Robbie, there's one mystery that's never been cleared up for me.  How _did_ you get James to withdraw his resignation?"  
  
"I didn't; he made the decision himself.”  Robbie had been anticipating this question for some time, but was amazed it had taken Jean so long to ask either of them directly.  “He wanted to find out if it was possible to _not_ take the job home with him.  With me retired, he knew he couldn't discuss active cases at home, so it forced him to let go, if only temporarily.  It was bloody hard for the first couple of months, but he learnt to – how'd he put it? – ‘compartmentalise his thoughts’.   He found a different balance, and it helped him start to find the good in people again – he'd lost that.  Doesn’t mean he’ll stay on indefinitely...”  Robbie knew for certain James was hoping to leave within the twelve months.  “...but for now he’s settled, and he's got this… it's like a... a calmness, he didn't have before.  It's lovely.”  
  
Jean smiled softly.  “I had noticed that, and I’m not the only one.  I’d assumed it was simply because he had you.”  
  
The lift doors opened.  Before Jean stepped out of the lift she pressed the button to send it back to James’s floor.  “Get back up there, Robbie,” she said fondly.  
  
He smiled his thanks as the doors closed and the lift began its ascent.

 

 

*****

 


	6. Wednesday

The bathroom was gleaming by the time Robbie had finished with it, and he’d also managed the other upstairs rooms – not that the spare bedroom needed much more that a vac and dust; for tomorrow’s distraction, he was tossing up between dealing with the garden or the attic.  
  
When Robbie arrived at the Unit early Wednesday evening the nurse was attending to James, who was propped up in bed.  There was a jug of water and a glass by the bedside, and his saline drip had been removed.  Robbie nodded a greeting to the nurse and placed a bag at the foot of the bed; James had asked for his iPad and the book he was currently reading.  
  
"I’m glad you’re here, Mr Lewis ...”  
  
“Please, call me Robbie,” he said kindly.   
  
“Robbie.  Well, Robbie, I was just telling James that the doctor has stated that, if he continues to respond to treatment as well as he has, we'll be able to transfer him out of here by the end of the week."  
  
"Transfer where?" Robbie wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.  
  
"If we've got a room, we'll keep James here, otherwise he’ll move over to the Churchill."  She turned to James, smiling.  “By that stage you’ll be free of all your 'accessories' – including the catheter."  
  
James closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged, rousing Robbie’s curiosity.  He waited until the nurse was out of earshot.  
  
“What’s that about, then?” he asked softly  
  
“When I woke up this morning...”  Robbie had to lean in very close to hear James.  “…I forgot, and tried to get out of bed to pee.  I pulled the catheter out and it had to be replaced.”  
  
“And?” queried Robbie; he knew there had to be more to the tale.  
  
James closed his eyes.  “I sneezed without warning – rather violently – and... it was like being stabbed.”  Robbie winced and instinctively crossed his legs.  “And I squealed – very loudly.  And I... I may have punched Mike, one of the nurses.  It’s okay now, but certainly not something I want to repeat in a hurry.”  
  
“I’m very glad to hear that.  Here, this should keep you out of mischief.”  Robbie handed James the bag.  
  
James opened it eagerly.  “Where’s my phone?”  
  
“There.”  Robbie pointed toward the nurses’ desk..  James scowled.  “You’re on sick leave.  You don’t need your bloody phone.  I’ve brought your iPod, and now your iPad – I even remembered the bloody chargers, so be grateful.”  He spoke with a gruffness born of concern.  James blinked twice before giving him a sly smile.  
  
“You don’t fool me, Robbie; this is just your way of making sure I can’t send you dirty text messages in the middle of the night, isn’t it?” he laughed  
  
“You right cheeky sod...  James!”  James’s laughter had quickly become a body-shaking coughing fit.  Robbie stepped back and watched nervously as the nursing staff quickly took control and settled James down.  
  
James lay back against the pillows, breathing heavily and looking ten years older.  “Serves me right,” he puffed, smiling weakly.   
  
James’s eyelids drooped heavily and he was asleep within minutes.  Robbie’s eyes followed the rise and fall of James’s chest as his breathing rate slowed, and he was no longer sucking in deep, harsh breaths.  Feeling his own heart rate return to normal, Robbie settled himself in the chair and picked up James’s book.  Book?  It was big enough to be a blunt instrument.  Who on earth was Thomas Pynchon, anyway?  Why couldn’t James read Frederick Forsyth or Tom Clancy?   With a sigh, Robbie opened the book and started to read.  
  
***  
  
Robbie opened his eyes and stared at his hands for a moment.  Unable to make head or tail of James’s book, he’d opted to close his eyes for a minute or two.  A glance at his watch revealed he’d slept for over an hour, and would soon have to leave.  
  
“How’s the allotment?”  
  
Robbie’s head jerked up at the softly spoken question.  He hadn’t given a thought to the allotment.  
  
“What’re you worried about that for?  You’ve got more important things to bother yourself with – like getting well and out of here.”  
  
“Well, if it gets over-run with weeds because you’ve neglected it, I’m not helping to dig them out.”  He raised the iPad from his lap.  “According to the forecast, it should be good gardening weather tomorrow.  You should spend the day there.”  
  
“If I put in a day at the allotment on me own, I probably won’t be fit to come in an’ see you in the evening.”  
  
“I’ll think I might manage to cope.”  James smiled.  
  
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”  Robbie raised his eyebrows.  
  
James gave a small shake of his head.  “I’m more worried about you being bored with me, falling asleep on you at the coughing-up of a lung.”  
  
“James,” Robbie sighed softly.  
  
“It’s not healthy for you to be in here every night; you may not have noticed, but I’m surrounded by sick people – and I’m serious about not helping with the weeds.”  
  
Robbie thought for a moment.  “I had planned to go out last Sunday, but then...”  He chewed his bottom lip.  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”  
  
“I don’t think I can get myself into any more trouble, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  
  
Robbie studied James carefully.  “If it’s dry in the morning, I’ll go.  Is that good enough for you for now?”  
  
James nodded.

 

 

*****

 


	7. Thursday

Robbie looked out the window and groaned.  It wasn’t sunny, but the cloud cover he could see was unlikely to produce much, if any, rain.  Why today, of all blasted days, did the Met Office have to get the forecast right?  
  
There was little else for it but to get out there and get his hands dirty.  James had a point – left too long and the weeds would probably choke the young plants – but he really didn’t feel like driving out there.  He could, of course, stay home and work on their garden instead, but as soon as James asked him how the allotment was – and it would be one of the first things out of his mouth – Robbie knew his face would give him away.  It wasn’t that he couldn’t lie to James – he’d done so quite successfully in the past when he’d felt it was necessary to protect him – however, he was incapable of breaking a promise to James, and he knew that he’d as good as promised he’d go, weather permitting... and the wretched weather was clearly on James’s side.  
  
Robbie made his call to the Unit after breakfast and spoke to Mike.  
  
“James is resting comfortably, Mr Lew– sorry, Robbie; he had a good night and everything’s progressing nicely.”  
  
“No, sorry, he hasn’t asked for anyone, but...”  Robbie heard the puzzlement in his voice  “...he did ask if you could check ‘Mac’s beets’.  Does that mean anything to you or should we be concerned?”  
  
Robbie groaned quietly.  “No, son, I know what he’s talking about.  Thanks.”   
  
‘Mac’ – MacRobertson – was Robbie’s allotment neighbour, and ‘Beets’ was his corgi.  Mac and Beets were at the allotment every single day, except when it snowed; James had trapped Robbie nicely.  _Bloody cunning sod_ , thought Robbie, _not much wrong with that big brain of his_.   
  
***  
  
It had been over a week since Robbie was last at the allotment, and the weeds had taken advantage of his absence.  Robbie decided there was absolutely nothing to be gained from moaning and resolved to set to with a vigour he knew would benefit from the inevitable long, hot shower; regrettably he’d have to make do without James massaging in the Deep Heat afterwards.  _First things first, though,_ he thought, and went to check on Mac and Beets.  
  
***  
  
Robbie straightened up very slowly, feeling every crack as he stretched his back out.  He looked down the neat rows feeling very satisfied, if sore.  He wiped his face with his sleeve and retreated to the shed for a cuppa and something to eat.  He was astonished to discover it was already after three.  Finishing his tea, he slumped down in the chair and contemplated his next move.  
  
***  
  
He entered the Unit a little after eight, having gone home from the allotment, washed off the dirt, and made himself some grilled cheese; cooking for one was always a chore and not something Robbie missed.  James was in a semi-upright again and appeared to be asleep; Robbie noticed that the nasal prongs were gone.  The nurse spotted him and walked over.  
  
“James was taken off supplemental oxygen late this morning and we’ve been monitoring him closely; his body’s maintaining good O 2 levels, and that’s another step closer to getting him out of here and into a private room to recover.”  
  
“What else has to happen?”  
  
“We’ll be removing the catheter in the morning, and James will also be given his first course of oral antibiotics.  Provided he can swallow the tablets without difficulty, and urinate by himself, we’ll arrange to have him moved, hopefully some time tomorrow.  Once he’s in the room we’ll work on getting him back on his feet and eating regular meals; so far he’s managed soup, jelly, and porridge.”  She beamed up at him.  “All things going well, you might be able to take him home as early as next Monday.”  
  
“Oh, that’s great news.  Does he know?”  
  
“Oh,yes.”  
  
A buzzer drew the nurse’s attention and Robbie went to sit with James.  James opened his eyes when Robbie took his hand.  He grinned broadly.  
  
“What’s so funny?”  
  
“Not funny, just very happy to see you; I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.  How’s Beets?”  His eyes were dancing with glee.  
  
“You’re a cheeky sod.  Beets is fine, Mac’s got his arthritis under control at last.”  
  
“Good old Beets.”  James grin faded and he looked intently at Robbie.  ”You must be sore – and tired; why aren’t you tucked up in bed?”   
  
“Wanted to come and kiss you goodnight.”

 

 

*****

 


	8. Friday

Robbie rolled slowly onto his back and glared at Monty.  “D’you have to dig the claws in every bloody morning?  Can you forget about your stomach for once?  Please.”  Monty stared, patted Robbie’s cheek with a soft paw, and pressed his nose against Robbie’s chin.  “Ah, away ya daft cat,” Robbie blurted out, as Monty’s long whiskers tickled annoyingly.  “All right, I’m up.”  
  
Robbie was standing beside the bed before he realised his back wasn’t screaming at him to lie back down again.  He stretched experimentally, and was delighted to find that the only part of him that ached any more than usual were his knees.  He could only assume that all his cleaning had gradually loosened up his muscles and joints.  
  
Deciding he might as well keep moving, and taking advantage of the fact that there was still a bit of sun in the sky, Robbie resolved to make a start on the small back garden.  
  
***  
  
James was sitting up in bed when Robbie entered the Unit.  To Robbie he still looked very tired, but the grey pallor of his face was starting to fade.  When he looked up and saw Robbie, he visibly perked up, smiling fondly.  Robbie sat on the bed next to him and greeted him with a kiss.  
  
“How’s your day been, pet?”  
  
James held up both hands, showing Robbie the dressings on the back.  “Drip free and bloody catheter free as well – and I’ve been to the loo,” he added with a note of relief.  “All in all, a successful day.”  He sighed and slumped against the pillows, lifting his face to the ceiling.  “I’m also shattered and just want to sleep.”  He lowered his head.  “But I’m well enough to be moved and, from what I’ve overheard, they need this bed.”  
  
“What’s the hold-up, then?” Robbie murmured.  
  
“Waiting for the orderly.”  
  
Robbie glanced around.  “Suppose we should get you packed up then; orderly could turn up at any time.  No, no, you sit there, I’ll get it.”  Robbie gently pushed James back against the pillows when he tried to stand up.   
  
James had started to doze off when the orderly eventually arrived with a wheelchair.  
  
“D’you not take the bed down to the other room?” Robbie asked him.  
  
“Between general wards, yes, but these beds stay in the High Dependency Units – they’re fitted with alternating pressure mattresses – they promote circulation and help prevent pressure sores in bed-bound patients.”  Robbie thought he sounded like a salesman.  
  
James snorted softly.  “Nearly a week visiting my bedside and you didn’t notice?”  
  
“I suppose I had something far more important on my mind,” Robbie replied affectionately.  
  
  
  
Robbie leant up against the window, out of the way, as the orderly and yet another nurse ensured James was settled in his room.  He didn’t need charts and readings to know that James was still ill; his meek obedience of all directions was proof enough for Robbie.  
  
When they were left alone, James groaned and slowly swung his legs out of the bed.  “I just need to pee,” he explained, as Robbie moved to call the nurse.  “I can manage.”  He walked carefully towards the small bathroom, using the bed and safety rail to support himself.   
  
Robbie stepped closer, not crowding James, but close enough to only need a few quick paces if James faltered.  “Do, erm, d’you need a hand – to, ah, stay on your feet.”  
  
“I’ll sit,” James groaned, and closed the door.   
  
Robbie stepped back and sat on the bed.  He exhaled slowly and reminded himself, for at least the tenth time since James fell ill, that James wasn’t a child.   
  
He waited quietly until James sat down on the bed next to him.  
  
“How’d you manage today, then?  The loo in the Unit had to be a good thirty feet from your bed.”  
  
James screwed his face up.  “A lovely disposable bottle thing,” he grumbled.  
  
“Get yourself back into bed; I’ll go see if I can find us both a cup of tea.”  
  
***  
  
That night, Robbie’s shower was a bit shorter, and not quite as hot.

 

 

*****

 


	9. Saturday

Robbie heard Julie and Laura laughing softly as he approached James’s room.  
  
“Good night, James.”  
  
“See you later, sir.”  
  
He couldn’t quite make out James’s response.  
  
“Oh, Robbie,” Laura exclaimed, as he grabbed her arm to stop her barrelling in to him.  “Sorry, wasn’t looking.  Don’t suppose there’s any point in inviting you to join us for a drink, is there?”  
  
Robbie shook his head, his smile lifting one corner of his mouth.  “Can I take a raincheck?”  
  
“Of course.”  She stretched up on her toes and kissed his cheek.  “Good night, Robbie.  C’mon, Julie.”  
  
“Evening, ladies.”  Robbie returned Julie’s wave.  
  
On entering the dimly lit room – the only light on was the one behind the bed – Robbie placed a bag on the floor next to the bedside table before greeting James with a slow, soft kiss.  He pulled back slightly and studied James; he looked exhausted, his eyes heavy and weary.   
  
Sitting on the bed, facing James, he asked, “You okay, love?”  
  
James nodded, but it was clearly an effort.  
  
“James,” Robbie began slowly.  “How long were Laura and Julie here?”  
  
James closed his eyes.  “Two bloody hours,” he said softly.  “I thought they’d go when dinner was delivered, but...  and then I thought Laura was going to feed me, as though I were a child or an invalid.”  James shook his head slowly.  “It was okay at first.  They brought me up to date on all the station gossip...”  James rolled his eyes.  “...but then Laura asked Julie about the work she was doing while I was ‘being a layabout’ and asking for my opinion as Julie’s governor and... it just got exhausting.”  
  
Robbie breathed deeply to keep his anger in check.  “Laura should know better than that – she’s a doctor, for heaven’s sake.”  
  
“Yes, but, to be fair, all her ‘patients’ are usually dead,” James huffed.  “Her bedside manner’s probably a little rusty.”  
  
Robbie’s eyes narrowed as he looked at James.  “You never let on you were knackered, did you?”  James dropped his eyes.  “Ya daft ninny,” Robbie scolded gently.  “You can be too bloody polite for your own good sometime.”  
  
James looked up sheepishly, and then yawned widely.  
  
Robbie tugged at his ear.  “Listen, love – I can go if you want to sleep.”  
  
“No. Please, stay.”  James shuffled across the bed and patted the space beside him.  
  
Robbie accepted the invitation, slipping his arm round James’s shoulders as James leant into him.  James soon fell asleep, his head resting on Robbie’s chest; Robbie rested back against the mattress and stared at the ceiling.  His anger at Laura’s thoughtlessness had abated a little; however, if she did it again, he wouldn’t feel any guilt when he gave her a bollocking.   
  
In the quiet of the room, he was aware when James slipped into a deep sleep.  He carefully removed his arm and settled James back against the pillows, pulling the covers over him.     
  
Retrieving his bag, Robbie removed a backgammon set.  He’d had it for years – Val had brought it for him one Christmas as a little joke.  The joke was on her when he’d picked up the game easily and was soon comfortably beating her.  Over time, Robbie had taught Lyn and Mark to play as well.  The game had been shoved into an old suitcase, along with a number of other board games, and carted around with the family over the years.  He’d remembered it in the early hours of the morning, when he was trying to think of ways to fill the days as James’s recovery continued, and had retrieved the case from the attic that morning.  
  
Putting the box on the table, Robbie located the notepad and pencil amongst James’s belongings, and wrote a note for him.  
  
 _I thought we could pass the time with a_  
 _game.  I can’t play chess, and you pulled_  
 _a face when I mentioned cribbage once_  
 _before, but I’m guessing you might know_  
 _backgammon.  Of course, it wouldn’t have_  
 _been fair to challenge you tonight, so get_  
 _some rest because I want it to be a fair_  
 _competition tomorrow._  
  
 _I reckon I’ve got a good chance of_  
 _beating you._  
  
 _I love you._  
 _x_  
  
Robbie left James with a kiss.

 

 

*****

 

 


	10. Sunday

Robbie’s phone beeped loudly, drawing his attention from the box of old audio cassettes he’d uncovered.  The message was from Laura’s phone, but not from Laura.  
  
//Backgammon?  Prepare to be slaughtered.  I love you, too.  xx//  
  
He chuckled, then thought carefully before sending a reply.  There were a lot of things he could say, wanted to say, but he also knew from experience that James’s texts could become very ... explicit – with little encouragement – and, as fond as Laura was of James, she didn’t need to find any of _those_ messages on her phone.   
  
//I’ll be in by 6. See you then pet. Xx//  
  
He cast a look around the attic; he’d barely made a dent in it, having been distracted every time he opened a box or case.  When he and James had moved into this house he’d finally cleared out the storage unit he’d hired before he went on secondment.  Until that day, he’d forgotten how much he’d kept and, apart from digging out the suitcase of games the day before, this was the first time he’d really looked at it since James had helped him move it up here.  Maybe when James was fully recovered they could take their time and go through it together.  
  
He nearly dropped the phone when it rang in his hand.  It was Lyn.  Robbie took that as his cue to leave the attic; the boxes and cases would be there tomorrow, or whenever he got back up here.  
  
“Hello, pet.  I’m in the attic; just give me a minute to get down.”  
  
***  
  
Lyn’s call went on far longer than usual and, by the time Robbie said goodbye, cleaned himself up, and had something to east, it was well after six.  He hurried into James’s room, anticipating a smartarse remark about his time-keeping.  
  
“Sorry, James, love, Lyn called just after...”  James was picking at his dinner, and Robbie wasn’t sure if the look of disapproval had been for him or the meal.  “Are you not hungry?  Shouldn’t force yourself if you’re not hungry, you’ll just make yourself sick.”   
  
James stabbed at a greyish mound on the plate.  “I am hungry, it’s... frankly, I’ve had better meals in the station canteen.”  
  
“If you’re complaining about the food you must be about ready to come home.  What’s it supposed to be anyway?”  
  
“Chicken something – I wasn’t really paying attention.”  James looked up with a sigh.  “You haven’t got a packet of crisps tucked away somewhere, have you?  I’d settle for ready salted.”  
  
Robbie thought for a moment.  “Are you allowed off the floor?”  
  
“No.”  James shook his head sadly.  “Laura asked this morning.  At first I thought it was because they thought I might sneak a smoke – as if Laura would let me,” he grumbled.  “Turns out they’re still a little worried about my balance and the risk of possible injury were I to attempt to get out of the wheelchair.  Laura found out they nearly lost an elderly man last month when he did just that – fell – gave himself a...”  James frowned.  Robbie could tell he was trying to remember something; it was very unlike James and just another sign of his illness, Robbie presumed.  “...ah!, a subdural haematoma.”   
  
“We’re not risking that then.”  Robbie sat on the bed.  “Innocent would have my guts for garters if anything like that happened to you on my watch.  I’ll sneak you in something tomorrow, unless you want me to pop downstairs now, see if I can’t get you a toasted sandwich or something.”  
  
James shook his head.  “Tomorrow’s fine.  Do we have any pickled onion crisps?”  
  
“I’ll get you some.  C’mon, let’s get that backgammon set up; see if you’re as good as you think you are.”  
  
***  
  
“D’you have any more of an idea of when they’ll let you go home?”  Robbie rolled the dice and removed his last checker from the board.  “Going to slaughter me, were you?”  
  
James scowled and started to reset his checkers.  “They want me to be able to walk the length of the corridor and back to my room, without assistance, and without collapsing at the end.   I’m being ‘tested’ tomorrow morning”  
  
“Can you do it?”  
  
“I think so.”  He looked at Robbie pensively.  “I hope so.  I just want to get back into my own bed – our bed.”  
  
“Monty won’t be best pleased – I think he’s taken a fancy to your pillow.”  
  
James’s mouth dropped open.  He gestured towards the board.  “Hurry up and reset your side – best of three.”  
  
Robbie chuckled, and did as James asked.

 

 

*****

 


	11. Monday

Robbie had just finished breakfast when there was a knock at the door.   
  
“Hello, Julie.  What brings you here at this time of the morning?  D’you want to come in?”  
  
“Oh, no, thank you, sir, I’m already running late; I just wanted to drop this off.”  She passed over a large container.  “I was telling my mum about Inspector Hathaway and...”  Julie gave him a small, embarrassed smile.  “Mum believes home-cooked food is the great cure-all, so she insisted I bring this for James – and you,” she added quickly.  
  
Of all the possible reasons for Julie to appear on the doorstep, a delivery of food had never crossed Robbie’s mind.  “Oh.  That’s very thoughtful of your mum.  Thank you – and thank your mum from me and James.”  
  
“I will, sir.”  Julie smiled happily.  “I’ll see you later, sir.”  
  
Robbie took the container to the kitchen and looked inside.  Monty jumped up on the bench beside him. “Ooh,” remarked Robbie.  “James’ll be well pleased with that, boy.”  
  
The phone rang as he was putting the container away from Monty’s curious paws.  
  
“Robbie, Jean.  Are you home this morning?”  
  
“I hadn’t planned on going...”  
  
“Excellent.  Laura and I will be there in about twenty minutes.  Thanks Robbie.”  
  
“Wait, I...”  
  
Jean had hung up.  Robbie puffed out his cheeks, and reached out a hand to scratch Monty’s ears.  “Well, that’s that, then.  Not much point making a start in the garden, and it’s probably too early to ring the hospital to see how James went.  What are we going to do old chap?”  
  
Robbie washed his breakfast dishes, cleaned down all the kitchen surfaces, and was ready to start on the hob when the expected knock came.   
  
Jean and Laura swept in with a cheery greeting when Robbie opened the door; both had carrier bags.  Robbie followed them down to the kitchen and watched in astonishment as they placed a variety of dishes on the bench.   
  
“What’s all this, then?”  
  
“Jean and I were chatting over lunch,” said Laura.  “You’ll probably have enough on your plate when James first comes home – he’s going to need help with the stairs for starters – and I know that James is the primary cook...”  
  
“I do all right,” Robbie protested.  “James has never complained.”  
  
“We’re not saying you can’t cook, Robbie,” Jean interjected.  “We just thought it might be nice if you didn’t have to bother with it for a few days – just until you know how James is travelling.”  
  
“Oh.  That’s very kind of you, really, but ...”  
  
“Can we put these away?”  Robbie nodded mutely, and watched with interest as Jean and Laura quickly and efficiently reorganised both fridge and freezer.  
  
“Right.”  Laura turned around with a satisfied smile.  “Everything’s labelled, with heating instructions, and all the dishes are microwave safe.  Do _you_ need anything?”  
  
“Thanks for the offer, Laura, but I’m fine.  Our Lyn’s got me sorted.”   
  
Robbie glanced from one to the other and Laura and Jean looked at each other as an awkward silence grew.  
  
“Well...” Jean broke the silence.  “I really should be getting back to the office before Peterson tries to take charge.  Laura – shall we?”  
  
“Ah.  Yes, yes.”  
  
After seeing them out, Robbie pressed his forehead against the closed door and exhaled slowly.  He knew they only had James’s – and his – best interests at heart, but he would have appreciated a little more faith in his abilities.  
  
***  
  
Robbie waited until noon before calling the hospital.  He had hoped to be told that James could come home that night; instead he was told that James _might_ be discharged the following morning.  
  
“He successfully negotiated the corridor – he was rather pleased with himself – however he’s...  excuse me.”  The voice became muffled, as though the mouth piece had been covered.  Robbie could tell there was a conversation of some description taking place by the pauses.   
  
“Mr Lewis?  James has said _he’d_ like to explain the reason for the delay to you when you come in this evening.”  
  
“Can you tell me if it’s something I should be worried about?”  
  
“Yes, I can – and no, not at all.  It’s a fairly common occurrence.”  
  
“Right.  Thanks.”  
  
Robbie looked at the phone in his hand as though he might find some answers there.  He _could_ ring Laura, she might be able to give him some idea as to what the problem might be, but that wouldn’t be fair to James.  He could go into the hospital early, but the nurse said ‘this evening’, so they were most likely James’s words – and James wouldn’t be pleased if he didn’t heed them.   
  
“Right then, Monty; the garden it is.”  
  
***  
  
James had a game of backgammon set up and ready to play when Robbie arrived.  “You got lucky last night.  Best of five.”  
  
Robbie sat on the bed.  “How come they’ve not discharged you?  You managed the walk, didn’t you?”  
  
“Yes, a bit slower than I’d have liked, but all went well.  C’mon, roll the dice.”  
  
“James?”  
  
James concentrated on the board.  
  
“James, I was told you wanted to tell me,” Robbie prompted gently.  James wasn’t embarrassed or upset, but he was clearly uncomfortable about whatever it was.  Robbie chose to give him an out.  “Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’d like to know in case whatever it is becomes a concern once you’re home.”  
  
James worried at his thumbnail, flicking his eyes up to meet Robbie’s; he took a deep breath and folded his arms.  
  
“I haven’t... been to the loo since I came in,” he said quietly.  
  
“Yes, you have, I’ve seen... oh.”  Robbie wasn’t sure whether he was going to make a sympathetic sound or laugh; _trust James to be self-conscious about something like that_.  He cleared his throat.  “Are they waiting for nature to...?”  
  
“They gave me something at lunch time – if it doesn’t work by tomorrow morning, I’ll have to stay in and... try again.”  
  
“Oh.”  Robbie thought carefully.  “James, it happens to everyone at some stage – you’ve been through...”  
  
“Can we please not talk about this anymore?”  
  
“So – does it feel like...?”  
  
“Can you just throw the dice, please.”  
  
They played for several minutes before Robbie noticed James peering around the room, on the bed and at the floor.  
  
“Something wrong?”  
  
James looked at him disappointedly.  “Did you forget my crisps?”

 

 

*****

 


	12. Tuesday

Tuesday dawned wet and miserable, but there was little that could dampen Robbie’s mood once he received the call to say James was being discharged.  He immediately discarded the half-dozen ‘moving’ lines that came to mind; he’d save them for another day when James would be feeling less fragile.   
  
Robbie arrived at the hospital at noon, with James’s favourite track pants and hoodie in a bag, along with one of Robbie’s own jumpers – a navy Aran one that James had taken to wearing when he was being introspective.  Following Lyn’s advice, Robbie was fairly confident he had everything he needed in place to ensure James’s continued recovery, and Jean had informed him that James was off work until at least the following Monday, pending a doctor’s clearance.   
  
James’s doctor arrived while James was getting changed and Robbie was packing his personal items.  Robbie was impatient to get James safely home, and had to fold his arms tightly to prevent himself repeatedly checking his watch while James’s post-hospital care was explained.  After the longest twenty minutes Robbie could remember, the doctor handed him a written summary and left them.  Robbie looked at James, who was lying down on the bed.  His face was thinner and he looked weary; against the darkness of his hoodie, he was the palest Robbie had ever seen him.  
  
“C’mon, pet, let’s get a wheelchair and get you downstairs then home.”  
  
***  
  
Robbie helped James into the house.  James headed toward the living room, but Robbie gently held him back.  
  
“C’mon, pet,” Robbie murmured.  “Upstairs to bed with you; you’ll be more comfortable.”  
  
“Couch is fine – it’s closer.”  
  
Robbie gripped James elbow for a moment.  “Okay – for now; I’ll get your bag in and put the kettle on, but you’ll take your tea upstairs.  Or would you prefer coffee?  
  
“Tea’s fine.”  James gently pushed Robbie’s hand away and lowered himself into the couch.   
  
Robbie pulled the lap rug off the armrest and started to tuck it over James’s lap.  
  
“Don’t fuss!” James snapped; Robbie reeled back.  
  
“Oh, God, Robbie – I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to...”  James closed his eyes and exhaled heavily.  
  
Recovering, Robbie sat next to him.  He carefully wrapped his arm around James’s shoulders, relaxing as James leant into him, and pulled him into an embrace.  “S’okay, James.  You’ve been through a lot this week; I think I’d be a bit fed up with it all too.  I didn’t think.  I should have asked.”  
  
James nodded, and then lifted his head to kiss Robbie’s cheek.  “God, I hate being sick.”  
  
“I don’t think anyone really likes it, love,” Robbie whispered, his lips brushing James forehead.  “You sit quietly and I’ll be back soon.  D’you want the telly on, some music maybe?”  
  
James shook his head, a half-smile on his lips, before closing his eyes again and letting his head drop backwards.   
  
James was fast asleep by the time Robbie had retrieved and unpacked his bag.  Robbie noticed he’d pulled the rug up around him and had slumped sideways onto the arm of the couch; he didn’t stir when Robbie gently eased a cushion under his head.  Robbie made himself a cup of tea, sat at the other end of the couch with the newspaper, and waited for James to wake.  
  
***  
  
It was after three when James stirred.  Robbie had done a load of washing, tidied up what little mess there was and, finding himself at a loose end, had decided to take another look at James’s book.  He settled himself back into the couch.  
  
“If you can make sense of it, can you let me know what’s going on?” James said softly.  
  
“Not much chance of that,” Robbie snorted.  “Though it’s good to know it’s not just me being thick.”   
  
James pushed himself upright with a soft groan and yawned widely.  “Oh, excuse me.”  
  
Robbie put the book aside.  “You’re excused, Sleeping Beauty.  You fancy that cuppa now?”  
  
“Please.”  
  
"You’ve missed lunch – are you hungry?  I can get you something to eat – not beans though, not after last time, not til you're fully recovered."  James looked at him quizzically.  “Ah, never mind, I’ll tell you once you’re fit and back at work.  You’ll not need to rely on my culinary skills, though.  Laura’s given us potato and leek soup and lasagne, Jean dropped off a chicken biryani, Julie brought over one of her mum’s cakes, and our Lyn’s bullied me into agreeing  to let her come down on the weekend to cook and stock the freezer – she’s already emailed me a shopping list.”  
  
James looked at him in amazement.  “They did that for me?"  
  
“Wasn’t just me who was worried about you, ya numpty.  They say it’s to make things easier for me, but really, I think they believe that if the flu didn't get you my cooking would."  Robbie grinned.  “Philistines – egg and chips never hurt anyone.”  
  
James’s small laugh rapidly became a coughing fit and Robbie was at his side in an instant.  
  
Catching his breath, James wheezed, "Can we eat later?  I’m not really hungry – tea’s fine for now."  
  
"Let’s get you up to bed first, eh?  C’mon, up with ya.”  Robbie took James’s hands, helped him to his feet, and walked close beside him.  “Steady there.”  He clutched at James’s elbow as he rocked into the door frame.  “Doctor said you'd probably be as weak as a kitten for a bit and ..."  
  
James gave him a mock scowl.  "Careful, even kittens have claws, you know."  He looked around and frowned as they approached the stairs.  “Did you get someone in?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Everything’s so... clean – even the banister’s shining.”  
  
“Had to do something to pass the time – it was either clean or brood and cleaning made more sense.  Don’t worry; I’m sure it’ll be back to its usual state of organised chaos within a week.”  
  
In the bedroom, James started to walk around the bed when Robbie stopped him.  
  
“Sleep on my side, love; it’s less distance if you need the loo.”  
  
“Will you be all right?”  James peered at him.  
  
“Cheeky sod; I’m not _that_ set in me ways, thank you very much,” he grumbled with fond exasperation.   
  
Sitting on the bed, James pulled off the jumper and hoodie.  Dressed in track pants and a t-shirt, he slid his legs under the covers and leant back against the bed head.  
  
Robbie bent down and kissed his forehead.  
  
“Right, you comfortable enough there?”  James nodded, and smothered a yawn with his hand.  “I’ll get your tea; won’t be long.”  
  
When Robbie came back with the tea, James had fallen asleep again and was slumped to one side.  Pulling the covers away, Robbie put one arm around James’s shoulders and the other under his thighs.  Carefully, he slid James down the bed until he was resting on his side, facing the middle, and pulled the covers back over him.  Robbie sat on the edge of the bed and sipped his tea as he watched James sleep.   
  
Walking around to the other side of the bed, Robbie set his cup down on the bedside table.  He removed his shoes and climbed into bed, lying as close to James as possible.  James’s eyes flickered half-open and he smiled softly.  He hooked one leg over Robbie’s, an arm over his chest, and pulled himself halfway onto Robbie, his head resting against Robbie’s shoulder.  Robbie held on to him and James nuzzled against the soft cotton of Robbie’s shirt.  “I’ve missed this,” James murmured.  “Will you stay for a while?”  
  
“I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”  Robbie gently stroked James's face and hair until he fell into a deep sleep.  
  
Placing another kiss against his forehead, Robbie whispered, "In good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for as long as I live, I'll be here for you."

 

 

*****

 

 


End file.
